Sastiel & Mishalecki Tumblr Anthology
by Shinigami Yumi
Summary: An archive of the ficlets I wrote on Tumblr. There's a bit of everything, so do have a look. Summaries will be on top. I'll add to these as I write more.
1. Prayers I Can't Define

**Summary:**

Post-s8, Sam and Cas resume their relationship, but it feels different now that Cas is human.

* * *

**Prayers I Can't Define**

Castiel doesn't have the strength he used to, but Sam is always so gentle, it's like nothing's changed.

Sam still looks at him with such awe, still breathes his name with such reverence, but it feels different now. More intense. Or less, perhaps, depending on one's perspective.

He can't quite sense Sam's soul anymore, but Sam's caress now feels like sparks along his skin. Sometimes, when they're near, he gets a strange feeling inside, like he wants something he can't define. It seems demeaning to call it lust, overly simplistic to call it attraction, too physical to call it love.

He does love Sam though.

Sam who kisses his attempted apologies into silence, who always places his hands so precisely between Castiel's shoulder blades, as if he can still feel the wings that once were there, who understands so much more than the whispered words or desperate touches can convey.

When Sam is beside him, he doesn't dream.

Sometimes, when he comes in for the night, Sam holds out his arms, and he no longer hesitates to close the distance between them. He twines his fingers in Sam's soft, long hair and lets Sam undress him. Sam mouths at his skin, cradles his body and sucks hard, and every touch is like an act of worship, every pleasured moan a prayer.

Sam loves to prepare him with his tongue, to hold his legs apart and open him slowly till he can't think straight, till his thoughts run into blasphemy. And though they started before things broke, Sam still asks if he's allowed, still worries he hasn't earned his place, still thanks Castiel as he takes them both as close to the Heaven Cas remembers from his fledgling days as living humans can get.

"It's less than you deserve," he finally says once.

And Sam only replies, "Nonsense. I have you."


	2. When I Wake

**Summary:**

Post-s8, a mute Castiel takes care of a feverish Sam. (Based on an old friend's headcanon that when Cas lost his Grace under Metatron's spell, he also lost his voice.)

* * *

**When I Wake**

Castiel pushes damp brown hair out of Sam's face. It is warm, too warm, where his fingers brush Sam's forehead, and he reaches for the cloth in the basin of iced water on the nightstand. He wrings and folds it before placing it back over Sam's brow. He fists his hands in the sweat-damp sheets, feeling helpless.

Once, he could have made Sam better with just a touch.

Now... Now, he's powerless, useless as "a baby in a trench coat," as Dean would say.

It was Sam who insisted on looking for him.

He knew from the missed calls, from the condition Sam was in when the brothers finally found him by activating the GPS on the phone he still didn't really know how to use. Dean would have tried everything to keep his brother in bed and stayed to take care of him; anything else could wait. Sam, in pain, feverish and barely conscious, wouldn't rest until they'd found him, and when he collapsed in Castiel's arms at last, Cas was certain he hadn't imagined the resentment in Dean's green eyes.

And all he can do now is sit here and intermittently cool the cloth in the basin again, watch Sam sleep restlessly in the throes of fever, add how fragile the once strong and beautiful hunter looks to his growing list of regrets. He bows his head.

Sometimes, it feels like he's done little but fail Sam Winchester.

A large hand covers his own and squeezes. He looks up. Sam is awake. It's been five days since he was last conscious.

"How long have I been out?"

Cas holds up five fingers, and Sam smiles weakly.

"And you've been taking care of me all this time? Thank you, Cas."

He shakes his head, covering Sam's hand with his own, and there are so many things he wants to say, but he can't articulate a single one. He tries to apologize, but even if he could say the words, Sam doesn't let him. Sam's already pulling him down by the tie for a kiss just like they used to. Before he broke everything.

Before he broke Sam.

He should get Dean, tell him Sam's awake, but instead, he lets Sam guide him under the blanket so they're lying side by side, presses his lips to every inch of Sam's face because he doesn't know how else to convey how much he cherishes this, cherishes Sam.

Sam smiles - he understands, he always does; he understands, and he forgives, and they don't need any words. He runs his fingers through Castiel's hair, blinking wearily.

"I'm still so tired, Cas," he murmurs. "I think I'll be asleep again soon. Will you be here when I wake up?"

Cas nods. Of course. _Of course._ He wraps his arms tightly around Sam as the hunter drifts off to sleep once more.

He'll never leave Sam again.


	3. The GISHWHES Not-A-Helpdesk

**Summary:**

Jared distracts Misha from the billions of people calling or texting him. (To commemorate Misha giving out his phone number on Twitter)

* * *

**The GISHWHES Not-A-Helpdesk**

Jared groans as the phone rings for what seems like the nine thousandth time. "Why did you ever think this was a good idea?" he asks as soon as Misha hangs up.

"Come now, Jared, we tweeted about this," Misha replies without turning as he picks up the next call.

Jared swings his long legs off Misha's equivalent of a couch and heads over to where Misha is sitting by the computer, reading texts on his phone, and Jared is pretty sure the only reason it isn't ringing again is because all the calls coming in at exactly the same time jammed each other. "Can we talk about the mountain of fanmail you have waiting—"

"But this is more fun!" Misha interrupts gleefully as he comes up behind him. "I mean, look at Tumblr." He points excitedly at the screen. "Let me just… ow!"

"NO, MISHA!" Jared says sternly, rapping his knuckles lightly on Misha's head.

"Hey!" Misha protests as he spins Misha's chair around to face him, but then the phone rings again before Misha can say anything more or even start on whatever message he had been planning on typing, and he rolls his eyes with an amused grin as Misha tells the caller to order a single bowl of only pinto beans and guacamole.

"Seriously?" he mouths.

Misha nods with an excited grin, then whispers in a woeful voice, "I thought I trusted you."

He manages to muffle his giggles long enough for Misha to hang up before just kneeling to bury his face in Misha's shoulder and laugh uncontrollably. "I love you," he says when he finally catches his breath.

"I know," Misha agrees, leaning in for the kiss.

The phone beeps, another text, and Misha breaks off to reach for it, but Jared beats him to it and turns it off. "Jared," he complains with a frown. He tries to get it back, but Jared immediately slips it into his back pocket.

"It's Google Voice," Jared reasons, trailing kisses down Misha's body through his shirt. "The voicemails get transcripted, the text messages get e-mailed, and your minions are never going to stop trying." He exhales hotly over the crotch of worn jeans and is gratified to feel the bulge there press up against his lips. "It's already 10pm. I've been here all day. _You've_ been at this all day. Take a one-hour break." He catches Misha's zipper between his teeth and pulls. The heady smell of precum makes him change his mind. "No, two hours. C'mon."

Misha moans, but doesn't resist when Jared lifts his hips a little to rid him of his jeans, and God, how can he resist Jared kneeling between his legs to mouth at his cock through increasingly wet black fabric?

"Mm, you're wearing my favourite pair~" Jared remarks with a giggle before pulling it off oh-so-slowly with his fucking teeth, and _oh. OH._ The monster's lubed his fingers while Misha was distracted, and now he's teasing in cold, wet circles around Misha's hole. Misha jerks helplessly back onto those fingers because "Jesus fuck, Jared, you're supposed to be giving me a break here."

He feels his colleague smile against his skin, and then those long, slick fingers are stretching him gently, and all he can do is bury his hands in Jared's long brown hair, rub circles into the other's scalp and twine his fingers in the soft strands to ground himself as he arches his back and whimpers every time they rub into that perfect place. Then Jared takes him into his mouth and swallows around him, and _shitshitshit_ he's going t— He pulls Jared away.

"Damn it, Jare," he gasps, hauling his lover up for another kiss, and the taste of himself in Jared's mouth is almost, _almost_ enough. "Now. Just. Now."

And Jared's lips curve up against his own a moment before he's lifted over broad shoulders, and being carried fireman-style by Jared Padalecki feels a bit like flying. Maybe he'll have Cas ask Sam to carry him in that episode he'll be directing.

Then they're falling onto his bed, and Jared is on him immediately, his hands, his mouth, his skin all over Misha's body at once like he can't ever get enough, and Misha can certainly never get enough of this. He's so fucking close, but he wants to come with Jared inside him so badly now. "Inside, goddammit. Now." His voice comes out almost a whine, and Jared has the gall to laugh. "Not funny." He pouts, and Jared agrees "Nope. Happy. So fucking beautiful," nipping at his lips between every word as he shucks his clothes and presses the lube into Misha's hands.

God, he loves this. The way Jared will just hold him close tenderly and moan softly into his ear as he strokes him with a slick hand, the very thought gets him off every time, and fuck, but he can't wait another second.

He pushes Jared back onto the bed and sheaths him in a quick motion, and Jared gasps as he bottoms out before flipping them over just as quickly to begin pounding into him like he knows exactly what Misha needs. He _always_ knows exactly what Misha needs, and Misha is screaming his name as the pleasure explodes in haloed lights. Jared curls in on him and comes as well with an utterly wrecked groan, and Jesus, it's always so fucking intense between them. He presses a kiss to Jared's temple and closes his eyes.

* * *

He wakes to the sound of glasses clinking and stretches with a smile as Jared rejoins him on the bed and hands him one of the wine glasses he's holding. He nestles closer into Jared's arms and takes a sip. As good as the wine is, he's almost sure the contentment is what's made it his new favourite. On a corner of the bed, he spies the phone halfway out of Jared's jeans and nudges it over with his foot.

"Really, Misha?" Jared shakes his head fondly as he turns it back on. "It's almost midnight."

He nudges Jared in the side with his elbow. "I gave it out to answer questions. It wouldn't be so late if you hadn't done such an amazing job of distracting me. Now I'm going to answer some questions."

Jared chuckles and kisses the top of Misha's head as the other begins responding to several text messages.

Suddenly, the phone rings, and Jared raises an eyebrow as Misha picks it up "hello?" before nodding approvingly as Misha points out "it's eleven-thirty." He can just vaguely make out the caller apologizing, and Misha just turns to him with a knowing smile as he answers, "It's okay. I'm kind of up. Drinking some wine."

He ruffles Misha's hair, loving how it stays an adorable mess. "Ready to sleep yet?" he asks when Misha hangs up.

Misha sighs, wrapping himself around Jared. "If you insist," he murmurs, finishing off the wine and setting the glass down on the night stand.

"No, no, you do what you want. Far be it from me to encourage you by dissenting," Jared replies, covering them both with a blanket.

Misha grins as he snuggles closer still. "I love you too."


	4. Scenting The Truth

**Summary:**

In an A/B/O AU at war, Castiel is an assassin, and Sam is the Boy King of a rising faction who has allegedly been massacring Castiel's people and will someday destroy the world. Castiel's superiors catch wind of a rumour: the unmated Boy King has a taste for a certain profile of Omega, a profile Castiel fits perfectly. Thus, an unsuspecting Castiel is sent on a mission to kill Sam and end the war. It isn't until he's infiltrated the dinner party that he realizes he's been set up and Sam is really just Sam.

* * *

**Scenting The Truth**

They told him Sam Winchester would destroy the world. That he could, Castiel believes. That he would, Castiel doubts. He's not used to doubting.

They told him Sam Winchester had to die. Those were his orders. Those were his intentions. He's never disobeyed orders before.

They didn't tell him why they'd chosen him, why they didn't give him the usual supply. Most certainly, they should have warned him about the dinner party he was infiltrating, should definitely have warned him that Sam was unmated too, that he'd look at Castiel with such want, that he'd smell so perfect. It wasn't until he was dancing with his target that he realized they'd set him up.

This was no assassination. This was a seduction. They were placing him here for some purpose he wouldn't learn till later.

There was no way he could have assassinated a mark that knew he was coming and where he was from, and Sam knew. Sam _knew_. "Maybe it's something in your air, your diet, your water," he said quietly as he deftly located and discarded every concealed weapon on Castiel's person, never a pause in the dancing. "There's something about the way you smell that's distinct, that can't be found here."

And Castiel knew better than to resist in that room full of Sam's friends and followers, so he just kept dancing, letting Sam lead him through the steps. In the distance, he recognized someone, someone he never thought he'd see again — the long missing Gabriel, and beside him a blond with twinkling green eyes.

"I thought you came for me," Sam purred in his ear, hands sliding up his thighs, ass and back to find the last hidden sword, and Castiel's breath hitches. He'd never been more grateful for the dam that kept his clothes dry — he was already hard and wet, and even if he hadn't been pressed up against Sam's well-toned body, he was sure Sam could smell it on him. "So don't look at my brother, angel. He's quite happy with yours."

And then Sam kissed him.

Slid a hand down his thigh to lift his knee to Sam's hip and pull the darts out of his boot, and Castiel was completely defenseless, but it wasn't like he could think straight in the cloud of Sam's spicy, musky scent anyway. He hadn't even noticed they were by a hidden door until Sam spun him through it and half-carried him up a flight of stairs. They were alone — it was quiet, there was no one he could sense, and he could have killed Sam with his bare hands right there and then maybe, but all he did was twine his fingers in long brown hair and kiss the boy king back.

Now, on this luxurious bed, his thighs are slick from when Sam pulled the dam out, and Sam's tracing patterns on his wet skin while trailing kisses down his spine, and he's never been with anyone so gentle, least of all a ruling Alpha.

"I was wondering when they'd try a different tack," Sam murmurs with a bit of a laugh. "I must say it's working."

Castiel wants to reply, but then Sam traces his hole with his tongue, and the only sound that comes out is a desperate keen. In response, Sam presses his tongue deeper in, and _ahahAH_, no one's ever done that before. Or kissed him after. Or waited this long to bury themselves inside him, and he's never even been so willing before.

Sam's right; their setup is working, and he hates them for it.

"Your name," Sam whispers, flicking a thumb over a nipple and sending sparks shooting down. "Tell me your name."

"Castiel," he answers, meeting that olive gaze with his own, and there's such a fire in them, such desire.

Sam blinks, surprised. "This is your first assignment here?"

"Yes. No. I was here once, a very long time ago. Much has changed." And he's already failing. Falling.

Sam sighs. "They shouldn't have sent you, Cas," he says sadly, his touch impossibly gentle. He cradles Castiel to him tenderly and cups Castiel's cheek with his free hand. "They didn't even tell you anything." He shifts, finally, to settle between Castiel's knees. "When was your last...?"

"A week ago," Castiel answers honestly, wondering why it matters, why Sam of all people should care.

"Good. Good," he murmurs, and Castiel didn't realize how much he wanted it until Sam was sliding in; God, has it really been so long?

Sam shifts again, teasing a nub with his tongue and hooking Castiel's legs over his shoulders for a better angle, then he's moving, and God, "Sam," Castiel gasps. "Sam." His fingers are probably leaving bruises where they're digging into Sam's back, but every thrust hits its mark, and soon, _soon_ he's going to—

The other chuckles breathlessly. "Oh man, I hope this isn't an act."

Castiel cries out wordlessly, back arching and head tilting back in helpless pleasure, and Sam growls low in his throat. He mouths at that place on Castiel's neck, and _shitshitshit_, Castiel isn't ready.

He isn't ready for the mere notion to nearly send him over the edge, for the way his insides clench instinctively with _need_.

But Sam only turns to kiss him behind the ear.

"Don't," Sam gasps hoarsely. "Don't do that." He sounds completely wrecked, and Castiel doesn't understand. "Fuck, you smell like Heaven," he groans, nuzzling Castiel's hair, and Castiel can't help tightening his hold on Sam, can't help burying his face in Sam's shoulder as Sam moans and rocks into him slower, harder, more intensely. "Oh. Oh Cas."

Then Sam presses his lips there, and the pleasure surges through him like lightning. "Sam!"

The other comes with a shout inside him, sinks in deep so the knot presses up against his prostate, and he shudders, spilling a little more as Sam thoughtfully flips them over so he's on top.

"Sam," he says again. "Sam." He takes the boy king's face in his hands to make him look, slides his hands down to Sam's neck, and Sam doesn't even tense. Like he's already won. Castiel thinks of his orders, his mission, and his fingers tighten around the other's throat. Sam just looks up at him sadly.

"You should have," he tells him, "so I can't."

Sam smiles wryly. He has the prettiest dimples. "If I did, you wouldn't be able to go home."

Castiel tilts his head, runs his thumbs lightly over Sam's collarbones. "I don't think they want me to come home. This is what they sent me to do."

"Are you suggesting I claim you to fulfill your duty?" Sam shakes his head. "I won't. This is a new low, even for them."

And there's that doubt again. This isn't anything like they said it would be. These aren't the eyes of a destroyer.

He slides his hands away, lays one over Sam's heart and buries the other in soft brown hair. "Did it feel like duty when you thought of it?"

Olive eyes soften. "Cas..."

"Does it feel like duty now?"

Sam's larger hand covers his own. "You don't know anything about me, anything real."

And he wants to know; he wants the truth. "I know that's the only way you can't lie," he ripostes. "And you know nothing of me either."

Sam squeezes his hand, smiling warmly. "I know enough."

He closes his eyes and leans down, and this time, Sam doesn't turn away. He wraps his arms around Castiel and sinks his teeth in, and Castiel whimpers as every nerve in his body sings. "Yes," he breathes. "Yes."

That's when it comes — the flood of thought, of feelings and memories, and God, this isn't... everything they've ever told him is wrong, wrong, _wrong_. All lies, and Sam is nothing like they say he is. They're the ones who broke this world, and now they want to purge it, so they can have it for themselves. No. _No_. All the blood on his hands to get here, and they should never have had to die.

He's shaking when Sam lets go. "I'm sorry," Sam murmurs, and why is he apologizing? He's not the one whose hands are covered in the blood of his lover's friends. Sam cups Castiel's face in his hands, wipes his thumbs across Castiel's cheeks. "They shouldn't have sent you. You didn't know."

Castiel draws in a shuddering breath. "Why didn't you kill me when I walked in the door? You knew. You always knew."

Sam laughs with such genuine mirth. "As if I could have passed you up once I'd scented you," and Castiel finds himself blushing inexplicably. "That was the plan, I'll be honest — I was going to kill you after. Right up until you looked at me with those guileless blue eyes and didn't lie about your name."

Castiel blinks, uncomprehending.

"It's a spell. I could kill you with a thought. They didn't even tell you that much." Sam pulls out now that he can, and they settle side by side under the covers. " It's not your fault; you had no reason to believe your orders were wrong."

Castiel shakes his head. "That doesn't change what I've done. I'm sorry." He doesn't even understand how Sam could have already forgiven him.

Olive eyes brim with tenderness, and Sam grins. "Get this," he says, a little excited, a little hopeful. "No one else knows, so if you want, you can stay."

"You'd... let me choose...?" Castiel asks slowly. The Laws are absolute. He gets orders, not choices. And he has no right, no right to be here, taken in by those of blood he's spilt.

But Sam answers "It only has meaning if you choose willingly," lacing their fingers like a promise, like he already knows Castiel's answer, and by now, he probably does.

Castiel doesn't have anywhere he can go, not anymore. He curls his fingers over Sam's and nods. "I'll stay."


	5. Do You Hear The Bees A-Singing?

**Summary:**

Sam eats the Solidarity Sammich. Cas comes in to cuddle. The bees are singing a song of sexy times. (Established Sastiel and adorable Crazy!Cas)

* * *

**Do You Hear The Bees A-Singing?**

Sam is sitting alone in the room eating his sandwich when Cas wanders in, and he watches the angel meander around the room with a spring in his step, arms outstretched at his side like he's balancing on a tightrope only he can see. He has a cheery grin on his face as he finally makes his way over, and Sam shifts to the side to make space for him on the bed, glad that if nothing else, whether or not he's all there, Cas seems happy. The angel deserves that much, at least, and Sam wishes he didn't have to be broken for that, wishes they needn't ask him to fight with them after this.

"How is it?" Cas asks, looking down at the sandwich as he plants his cheek on Sam's shoulder like it wasn't forever ago that they last touched.

"It's delicious, Cas," he answers, honest and grateful. "Thank you for travelling around the world to make it."

The angel beams up at him, settling his head on Sam's shoulder. Sam hesitantly wraps an arm around Castiel's waist to hug him close, and the way Cas snuggles in and sighs in contentment makes Sam regret every missed opportunity. This feels perfect. Perfect like it had been with Jess what now seems like an eternity ago.

As he finishes off the sandwich, Cas suddenly pipes up. "The bees are singing, Sam."

He blinks. "Singing?"

Cas straightens and turns to face him, looking almost gleeful. "Yes. They're saying I should kiss you."

_What?_ Before Sam can respond, Cas leans in and does just that, and Sam is returning the kiss long before his brain can catch up. After several moments, Cas pulls back, _giggling_, and it's so strange, but that's okay. As long as Cas is happy, it's okay.

"They sometimes have such brilliant ideas, these bees," and Cas is pushing him down to lie back on the bed, their clothes gone in a hush of displaced air. "Guess what they suggested next?"

And this feels wrong. Like he's taking advantage. "Wait, Cas?"

Cas stills, face hovering an inch from his own. "Sam." And the blue eyes that meet his are suddenly perfectly clear, perfectly lucid. "I've missed you," Cas enunciates, deliberate and with such _feeling_, and that's all Sam will ever, _ever_ need.

He surges up to close the distance between them, crash their mouths together and flip them over so he can cradle Castiel's body in his arms and worship him like he's longed to do for so, so long.

"God, I've missed you too, Cas. _So fucking much_."

Cas moans beneath him as he mouths at every inch of skin he can reach.

"Thought I'd never see you again, don't even know how I kept going, and as soon as you come back, you do something as stupid as take on my madness…" He laces their fingers together, burying his face in Castiel's abdomen and drawing in a shuddering breath. "I never wanted to wake up to that," he whispers, following the fine line of hair there down with feather-light kisses. "Never deserved that. Love you so fucking much, Cas, Cas, _Cas_…" He takes the angel into his mouth reverently, and Castiel's quiet sounds of pleasure are worth another hundred years in the Cage. "God, Cas," he breathes, pulling off with an obscene pop. "Let me feel you inside me."

Cas just smiles serenely up at him and obliges, kisses him again and rolls them over so they switch places, traces his features with gentle fingertips as he's entered in a swift movement. He gasps at the sharp pain, and Cas bites his lip, brows furrowing in concern as they hold perfectly still.

_This_ is real, and Cas lets him savour it, drink in the pain's reassurance for a minute, before healing him and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Then Cas is moving, the snap of his hips incongruous to the slow, adoring trail of kisses he's making down Sam's body, and Sam has to muffle his cries with the back of one hand as he wraps his legs around Castiel's waist to draw him deeper.

_YesyesYES._ He whimpers as Castiel's lips close around a nipple, as teeth tease the sensitive nub, and he doesn't think he'll last much longer. "Cas," he moans, free hand fisting in the sheets. "_Cas._"

Castiel's hips stutter as he comes with a muffled gasp, and the pulse of wet heat sears through Sam in white-hot ecstasy.

_Shit,_ he thinks when he's coherent again. He probably forgot all about being quiet, and everyone outside is probably traumatized for life now.

Cas shifts, out and up to settle against his side with his chest as a pillow. There's another rush of air, and they're clean and fully dressed again. He wraps an arm around the angel, runs his fingers through surprisingly soft dark hair and loves Cas so much it fills his heart to bursting and he can hardly breathe from the intensity of the feeling. He whispers Castiel's name like a prayer, and Cas props himself up on Sam's chest by his elbows with a happy smile. Sam can't help mirroring the expression, can't help pulling Cas closer by the back of his head to press their foreheads together and wish there was some way he could convey all the tenderness he feels in this moment, but Cas just covers Sam's hands with his own and squeezes like he knows. _He knows._

"Sam," he whispers, and Sam opens his eyes to look into those blue, blue ones. "We have to go soon."

"We?" Sam repeats, dumbfounded. Earlier, Cas said he doesn't want to fight. "You're coming with?"

Cas smiles fondly, eyes brimming with resigned affection. "Of course I'll help you, Sam. You wouldn't turn me away even if it'd kill you."

Guiltily, he promises softly, "You don't have to fight. Just point out the right person for us."

Cas sighs. "Silly boy," he whispers fiercely. "Never doubt."

He doesn't elaborate, but "I know," Sam answers. "_I know._"


	6. A Little Fall Of Blood

**Summary:**

At the end of My Bloody Valentine, as Sam's withdrawing from the demon blood in the panic room, Cas gives Sam a few drops of his blood, hoping it will have a placebo effect. It does, but with unexpected consequences.

* * *

**A Little Fall Of Blood**

Castiel watches Dean head outside as Sam screams in anguish inside the panic room. He squeezes his eyes shut as Sam pleads for help from someone, _anyone_. This is his fault. It should never have come to this. _He_ let Sam out; _he_ never tried to help before it was too late. If only he'd chosen this path earlier…

"No! No, no, no. I never wanted this. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Sam is hallucinating in his withdrawal, and if it's anything like the last time, it won't be long before he hurts himself. Cas heads inside. If nothing else, he can hold Sam down, keep him from being thrown violently around the room again. He sits beside Sam on the cot, wipes the sheen of cold sweat off tanned skin with a nearby towel sadly. Sam's breaths come in shallow gasps, olive eyes darting wildly around the room, and then he's screaming again, arching up in pain, and Castiel doesn't know what to do. He cards his fingers through Sam's hair, and Sam curls into the touch, breathing evening out a little, but then he groans again, and Cas can't bear it.

"What can I do, Sam?" he whispers. "How can I help you?"

He remembers waking up with a cool cloth over his eyes and Sam asleep beside him and knowing that Sam hadn't had any idea how to help, probably knew very well he couldn't help, but he'd tried, remembers Sam's concern for him and embarrassment at having fallen asleep.

"I need it," Sam gasps desperately, looking up with unseeing, pleading eyes. "I need it, please. I wish I didn't, but I can't, _I can't_. Please. _Please._"

His hands fist in Castiel's coat, and Cas can only cover those larger hands with his own helplessly.

"Oh Sam," he murmurs sadly, squeezing Sam's hands. "I can't. You'll get worse. You just need to get it out of your system."

Sam doesn't seem to hear, just writhes on the cot in agony, and Cas racks his brain, searches several millennia of knowledge and memory. There must be something. There must be some way to make this easier.

Oh.

Perhaps… Perhaps if he can trick Sam's mind and body into believing it's getting what it craves…

He lets his blade slip into his hand and pricks his finger on it. Maybe… Maybe this will take some of the edge off.

He presses his bleeding finger past Sam's parted lips and gasps. He'd expected Sam to suck at the wound hard. He's not prepared for the way Sam's tongue curls around the digit, laps at the wound gently to make the blood trickle steadily down his throat. It's suddenly so warm in the room, and his mouth is dry.

Olive eyes clear as Sam blinks, and soon enough, they focus on him. "Cas?" Sam's eyes widen in alarm as he realizes what he's doing, and he immediately stops, scooting up the cot and away. His breathing is ragged, and Cas watches as he licks his parched lips, takes in the flush to the hunter's skin. "Oh my God, Cas, what was I…? I—I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Oh God. I—"

"Stop," Cas interrupts, letting the wound heal. "You didn't do anything, Sam. I thought it might ease your suffering."

"Oh." Sam sighs in relief. "Oh, thank God."

"If only I could find him," Cas mutters, and Sam shifts closer.

"I'm sorry," he offers. "Thank you for trying. And for um… earlier." His eyes dart to the little bit of blood still staining the angel's finger, and he looks… _hungry_.

Cas holds out his hand. "We shouldn't waste it."

Sam swallows nervously and takes the offered hand in both his own. His touch is reverent, unsure. "Are you…?"

"Yes," Cas answers, too quickly, and when did they get so close?

Sam takes the bloodstained digit back into his mouth, and Cas shivers. This is… This is new. Perhaps it's his waning Grace — physical sensations never used to feel so real.

Sam's tongue slides hot and wet against his finger, and he's surprised to realize the whimper he hears is his own, surprised to find them suddenly a mere hair's breadth apart.

"Cas?" Sam whispers hoarsely, concerned, and Cas doesn't know what he wants, how to explain this, why they're practically sharing breath and his eyes can't help following the pink tip of Sam's tongue as it wets the other's lips.

"Sam," he breathes, and he's not sure who closes the distance between them, but suddenly, Sam's lips are on his own, and he's seen this before — it's called a kiss; he just never knew it'd be this perfect. "Sam," he says again, leaning into it, and Sam wraps warm arms around him, slips long fingers into his hair. Yes, this feels right. "Sam."

"Cas?" Sam pulls back, unsure. "Is this...?"

"Yes." He leans forward, pushing Sam down to the cot. "No. I don't know. It feels good. Kiss me again."

Sam complies without question, deeper this time, and Cas finally recognizes this as sexual arousal. It's an alien sensation. He's only ever watched, never experienced, never understood. He palms the burgeoning bulge in Sam's jeans, and the human cries out into their kiss, hips jerking up against his hand, and he wonders; he wonders if it'll be the same for him, if it should be. Sam reaches for him, then hesitates.

"May I...?"

"Yes. Anything."

Sam brushes his knuckles lightly over smooth cloth then, reverent, adoring, and a moan escapes unbidden. The hunter shifts them, flips them over and presses their hips together, and Cas bites his lip. I—It's good. He'd never known. Sam kisses him again, rocks their hips together, and the pleasure has him making these involuntary sounds into their kiss that he's never heard and can't stop, but it's like... it's too much, yet not enough, and he doesn't understand.

"Ah, Sam?" he asks when the human breaks off for air. "W—What's this?"

Sam seems to understand though because he just smiles and says, "Just let it go, Cas. I've got you. Let it go."

So he does, relaxes completely and trusts Sam, and then, suddenly, his vision whites out.

Oh. _Oh._ It's like Rapture.

He cries out as the pleasure crashes over him, hands fisting in Sam's shirt to hold on because it feels like he might drown. "Sam," he gasps. "Sam," and the other groans, melting boneless atop him. Oh, it's like that for Sam too. "Is it always like this?"

He receives a breathless chuckle, then "I guess. More or less," and no wonder they seek it; no wonder so many of his siblings Fell for it. It's... incredible.

Sam sighs, shifting to pillow his head on Castiel's chest, and that reminds the angel of how this started. He wraps his arms loosely around Sam's head. "Sleep, Sam," he murmurs, pressing his lips to Sam's temple. "It'll be better when you wake up."

The hunter nods. "Will you be here still?"

Cas considers it. "Yes," he decides. "I'll protect you."

Sam smiles again, content. "Thank you, Cas." He tilts his head up to kiss Castiel lightly on the jaw. "Thank you."


	7. Some Nights

**Summary:**

In s4's The End!verse, Castiel is tripping on a new drug he's trying. Sam comes to visit.

* * *

**Some Nights**

Cas smiles at the coloured lights all around. They're pretty, swirling and shifting around. Like a kaleidoscope. Like flying past the stars. Like before.

"Hey," comes a soft voice, and he swipes at the lights to clear them. It doesn't work.

He hasn't heard this voice in a long time though. It seems like forever ago that everyone left, and the last time he heard this voice is longer ago still.

Too long ago.

"Sam~" he calls happily, reaching towards the voice he'd heard, and large warm hands take his own.

"Cas?" Sam sounds worried. "What ha—" One hand cups his cheek. "Oh Cas." Long arms wrap around him. "What happened to you?"

"Humanity," he answers with a giggle, toying with Sam's hair. It's as long and soft as he remembers.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry."

Cas laughs, clinging tightly to Sam's larger muscular form. "It's okay, Sam. Don't be sorry. He's not here. He's not here anymore." He likes this new pill. It always gives such good, happy trips. Some nights, he even has trips like these.

"I'm sorry this ever happened to you, Cas." Sam rubs his back soothingly. His hand fits perfectly between Castiel's shoulderblades. "It should never have come to this. But it's okay, Cas. lt's okay. I've figured it out. I can fix this. I'll fix things, okay? You won't have to live like this anymore."

"It's so good to see you, Sam." Pulling back, he can see Sam's face now, haloed by the glimmering lights. "Wish you could see the pretty lights." He takes those dimpled cheeks in his hands. "They're so beautiful, so beautiful like you."

He kisses Sam then.

Unexpectedly, Sam kisses back without hesitation. Sam tastes so good though. He wonders why Dean likes pie. None of the pies Cas has tried ever tasted as good as Sam does now. Why does Dean like pie when he could have had Sam? They have to break off — Sam for air and Cas because he's giggling too hard.

"I've missed you, Cas," Sam murmurs, lying down beside him on the cot. "What's so funny?"

"I'm always happy like this. And I like kissing you, Sam. lt's very good." Sam's cheeks grow warmer against his palms. "I want you, Sam. We should... share perception~ Can I have you?"

Sam covers his hands with those larger ones and smiles. "You've always had me, Cas. Always. From the moment you first took my hand."

Cas presses their lips together again and slides his hands under the hunter's shirt. Sam welcomes him, and Cas thinks Sam has ruined him for life, even for orgies.

* * *

Cas is woken by sunlight in his eyes and the sound of gunshots from the firing range where they train. Maybe he should take a hit of this before sleeping every night. He'd had the sweetest dream.

He sits up. There's something in his hand.

He smoothens out the rumpled piece of paper, and his heart sinks.

lt's Sam's handwriting. _Don't tell Dean I came. I love you._

Oh.

_Oh Sam._

For the first time since he lost the last of his Grace, Castiel begins to cry.


	8. White Boxers

**Summary:**

Sam and Cas at the laundromat. A hungry Cas wants a distraction. Sam obliges.

* * *

**White Boxers**

Castiel frowns as he puts his socks into the washing machine. He should put his boxers in too, but that would require undressing completely, and he'd heard one could get arrested for doing that in a public place like this laundromat, deserted though it is at three in the morning.

"Why don't you put your boxers in too?" Sam comes over with the bottle of detergent. "You can wear my shirt for now." He sets it down on the next washer, removes his jacket and then his shirt, handing Castiel the shirt before putting his jacket back on.

Castiel takes it and puts it on. It smells of Sam, earthy and spicy, familiar. He removes his boxers and puts it in with the rest of his clothes. Sam pours in a cap of detergent and closes the washer, starting it.

"And now we wait."

Castiel nods, looking down at Sam's blue plaid shirt. It reaches to his knees and feels nice and soft on his skin. "Thank you."

Sam smiles. "It matches your eyes," he murmurs, ducking his head. Dean would roll his eyes and say he was saying all that girly stuff again, but it really does, and the corners of Castiel's mouth quirk up a little, so that's okay.

Suddenly, there's a strange sound.

Castiel blushes. "Um. I think I'm hungry."

Sam can't help chuckling a little. "We could order pizza." Pizzerias open late.

"Like in that movie?"

It takes a moment for him to make the connection, and then it's his turn to redden. "Uh. N—Not really like that."

But now all he can think of is the lean and muscular form beneath his shirt that makes it look like Cas spent the night in his bed, and he swallows thickly. Cas is gorgeous. He'd never realized. It had always been hidden under that trench coat, but standing there earlier in nothing but a pair of white boxers that left little to the imagination… Quickly, he takes his cell phone out before his mind can continue along its train of thought, but Cas covers his hand to stop him, and when did the former angel get so close?

"I probably shouldn't be seen like this. Won't I get arrested for indecency?"

"Not by the pizza man," Sam assures him.

"He'd slap my rear instead?" Cas asks, and alarmed, Sam looks up to check if Cas is really doing what he thinks Cas is doing, and the hint of a grin suggests that, yes, Cas really is flirting with him.

_Oh._ Oh God.

"I—I don't think—"

"Humans don't feel hungry when aroused, do they?" Cas steps in a little closer, tilting his head up. "You could distract me while we wait for the laundry."

And Sam leans in a bit; he can't resist. Blue eyes fall shut.

God, Cas is serious about this.

So he closes the distance between them, just a chaste brush of the lips first, but then Cas shifts forward for more, parting his lips and resting his hands on Sam's waist, and Sam doesn't wait any longer, just tilts his head and plunders Castiel's mouth like he's always wanted. It takes a few tries before Cas figures out how to kinda kiss back, but when he does, Sam wraps long arms around him in a tight hug, and oh, Cas is already hard too.

Slowly, he backs the former angel into the nearest wall, lifts him a little so their erections are pressed together, and Cas makes a soft sound of pleasure, instinctively wrapping his legs around Sam's waist and his arms around Sam's shoulders to hold on. Sam runs his hands up surprisingly muscular thighs to cup and squeeze that perfectly rounded ass, and the whimper that escapes the other makes him brush his fingertips experimentally up the crease of Castiel's ass.

Cas cries out, hips jerking and back arching, head pressed back into the wall and eyes half-lidded, and Sam obligingly traces his entrance with a finger as he trails kisses down Castiel's exposed neck and unbuttons the shirt with his right hand.

The soft fabric falls away to reveal the well-toned torso he'd seen earlier, and Sam dips his head a little lower to suck on a pert nipple. Cas keens, and God, he's so beautiful, skin flushed and cock glistening, and from the desperate little sounds he makes whenever Sam presses in a little, he'll probably come untouched with a bit of fingering.

But they have no lube, and the last thing Sam wants is to hurt his angel. This is probably Castiel's first time as a human, and he wants… He wants to see Cas really come undone.

In a swift motion, he spins them around, kissing Cas again, and sets the other down atop the still running washer with knees wide apart. Cas whimpers into the kiss as the vibrations thrum into his balls and shifts to feel it better.

"God, Cascas_cas,_" he murmurs, holding the other to him tightly.

Breaking off, he mouths his way down that perfect torso, and he knows it's the vessel, but in his mind, he thinks Castiel can only be more beautiful, and he hopes that someday, he'll have the chance to see it. God, he _wants._

He drops his head and takes Cas into his mouth.

"S—Sam!"

He doesn't answer, just sucks and swallows his angel deeper, and Castiel's hands fist in his hair to a sharp gasp. The washing machine rattles beneath them, jerking his finger into Castiel's hole, and Cas moans in a way that has Sam undoing his own pants to fist his own cock roughly.

"Ah, Sam—" Cas tries again, but Sam hums in reply, and Cas cries out sharply, coming down his throat in hot spurts. "Sam," he gasps, his voice utterly wrecked, and that's all it takes to make Sam's vision white out as he spills over his own hand.

Cas lifts his head, and Sam goes along with it, lets Cas kiss him again, slow this time, lingering. The washer shudders and stops, falling silent as they part.

Then Castiel's stomach rumbles again.

The former angel ducks his head, embarrassed, as Sam chuckles.

"U—Um. It's done now, isn't it?" Cas asks, sliding off the machine into Sam's arms.

"Well, it still has to go into the dryer," Sam replies, holding Cas close with one arm while lifting the lid with the other.

Cas turns, frowning. "How long will that take?"

"Uh… At least another half hour," he answers sheepishly, and Castiel's frown deepens.

"This is most inconvenient."

Sam looks around, wondering if there's anything he can do, then spies a vending machine in a corner. "Well, if you'd rather not call for pizza here, we could always grab some snacks while we wait and get an early breakfast after," he suggests, tilting his head to indicate the machine.

Mollified, Cas agrees, "Mm," and leans on Sam to rest his head contentedly on Sam's shoulder as he fixes his clothes.

And there are so many questions Sam wants to ask, so many answers he needs, but he just fixes his own clothes and leads Cas over to the vending machine to pick out a snack.

He's already waited a lifetime. He can wait a little longer.


End file.
